Knife Through the Heart
by thurschick
Summary: Some drama, some fluff, some surprises...GS
1. I Am The Killer

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI blah blah blah

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Part One: I Am The Killer

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Unfortunately, Sara's case had just turned serial. The third thirty-something brunette had been found dead, throat slashed and heart removed, in the middle of Freedom Park. The details of the murder easily linked it to the previous nights' murders – the victims had also been found in parks bearing the same wounds, clad in jogging attire and sneakers. Unfortunately, the evidence found at each scene was minimal – some white fibers, a few hairs, and a footprint – and they had absolutely no leads from them. 

When Sara and Greg arrived at the scene a chilling feeling of déjà vu swept over them. "This guy's apparently got a thing for thirty-something brunettes who enjoy an evening run in the park," Greg noted, receiving a "Duh" look from Sara. She sat her kit down near the body and bent her knees to examine it. Greg stood dutifully by her side, ready for action, her personal lap dog. 

"Amanda Sims," Brass's dry voice spoke. He was approaching behind her, a look of I-have-to-do-this-shit-again on his face. "Some guy stole her heart too. Maybe you should be looking for an ex-boyfriend." 

"Thanks Brass, I'll keep that in mind," Sara said, smiling as she looked up at him, now towering over her. He shrugged and trundled away to interview the man that had found her. 

The fact that she hadn't caught this asshole yet plagued her. How many more innocent women were going to die because she couldn't catch him? She bit back her emotions the best she could and tried to concentrate on doing her job. "Greg, you take the surrounding area. I'll take the body." He nodded and moved away with his kit in tow. She opened her own kit, spreading it out over the grassy area and began collecting evidence – fibers and hairs which bared resemblance to those from the previous victims and another shoe print that did not match the one cast at the previous night's murder scene. 

Despite the fact that she knew none of this evidence would come close to a suspect, she handled it with deliberate care making sure to bag and tag it correctly. At least she owed it to this woman to do her job right even if she knew it would yield no new information. 

She was startled out of her work by the quiet coroner creeping up on her. "David! You scared me." 

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly 

"That's okay. What can you tell me?" He knelt down beside her, making gestures with a pointed, glove clad finger. 

"It's the same situation Sara. Time of death is about five hours ago, so sometime in the evening. Cause of death is a deep slash on her throat, severing the artery. Otherwise, it doesn't appear as though she has suffered any other wounds. The heart was cut out post-mortem, like the others. Of course we'll know more back at the lab." 

"Thanks David," she said, and he took that as his dismissal. Nodding, he stood awkwardly and shuffled away. Greg returned to her side about an hour later having recovered little. The park was a fairly heavy traffic area, so there was no guarantee that his evidence could be attached to the murder. However, they had to remain hopeful. Greg patted her shoulder and they left the scene quietly in her Tahoe.

* * *

"I don't understand it. Why cut out the heart?" 

"Maybe," Greg spoke up, "It's those demon guys from that silent episode of Buffy." He was kidding but Sara certainly wasn't amused and she gave him a threatening look that told him so. 

They were nestled in the break room going over their evidence again trying desperately to shed some new light on this case. "Okay," Sara said, "Let's go over what we have again. Greg?" 

"Ooookay, let's see. All three victims died from a knife wound to the throat. Their hearts were removed post mortem. Otherwise, there are no bruises or other wounds on the bodies to speak of. They were all found in parks in more secluded areas, under trees and out of sight." He paused now, glancing at Sara for approval. She nodded and he continued. "All three had some odd fibers, probably a rag or towel of some kind, on their person as well as dark human hairs. Two of the three scenes had footprints though not the same shoe – one was definitely some type of boot and the other more like a sneaker. There's nothing about any of the victims themselves that could connect them. The victims were selected at random." 

"And they were all jogging, all around the same age, all female, all brunette…" Sara trailed off. "So he targets a specific type of woman," Greg finished. 

Just then, Sara's cell phone rang. It was Brass. She gave Greg the I-think-we've-got-another look and picked it up. "Sidle." 

"Sara, Brass. I'm in Sunset Park. I think your triple just quadrupled."

* * *

The scene was a perfect snapshot of the previous – with one minor exception. The first three victims had no defensive wounds. This one did. It appeared as though the woman, Sharon Alms, had tried to defend herself with her water bottle. The bottle was promptly dusted, swabbed, and bagged by Sara. Because it had been located a distance from the body, there was a possibility the killer had thrown it and it was the best piece of evidence they had so far. She wished she had a big red rubber stamp to smack a huge RUSH on it, but alas, her kit was not equipped with such things. 

Sara was giddy at the two full prints and the partial she had recovered from the bottle. There was a good chance that all of them belonged to the victim, but at least there was hope. Mia started immediately on the swab and Greg had taken the usual evidence – fibers and hairs – to compare them to those from the previous victims. 

An hour later, Sara received a very worried call from Jacqui. "Sara, you need to come down here, now," the woman on the other end urged. "I don't like to think I'm going crazy, but God please tell me that I am." A worried expression crossed Sara's face. Did Jacqui have something? 

Sara flew to the print lab, not knowing what to expect. She found a very frightened Jacqui staring at the computer screen, hands shaking at her sides. 

"Sara, you won't believe this." Sara approached the screen and studied it. Upon it were the two fingerprints – her partial and its match, the match points blinking. According to the screen, it had pulled someone from the lab's database. Jacqui looked at Sara now, eyes wide, obviously frightened. Someone they worked with, someone in the lab that they saw everyday, was a murderer. Sara bravely reached forward and did what Jacqui obviously could not – tapped the enter key. Gil Grissom's face filled the computer screen and the details of his life were listed before their eyes. 

Sara's hand clutched her stomach and for a few moments she felt nauseated, the image of her throwing up crossing her mind. She sat down hard in the chair behind her. Quiet filled the room for a few moments as Sara debated what to do. She wanted to see Grissom, badly, and ask him why. 

"I'll…I'll go talk to him." However, she did not move from the chair, merely sat a little longer gathering her strength before rising and heading for his office. 

Without knocking, Sara entered the tiny room and stood before him. She was so thrown that she had to blink several times before realizing he was holding a knife upright in his fist, twirling it so that the light glinted off its blade. "I knew you'd come," were his only words and his gaze never left the knife. Sara's eyes moved briefly from the knife to the shelves behind his desk. The jars of animal and bug specimens had been replaced with four red jars – the hearts of her victims. 

The knife flashed and brought her gaze back to him. He was standing now, having moved from behind his desk to mere inches from her. She managed a small "Why?" but could do little else. Her body was helplessly frozen to the spot. _It's Grissom. Somewhere in there, it's still Grissom. He wouldn't hurt me, would he?_

"Oh Sara," he spoke softly, "You don't get it, do you?" A cold smile crossed his lips as he continued to twist the gleaming blade between his fingers. 

"Grissom, I…" she began. 

"They're all you!" he shouted menacingly. "All of them! I look at them and I see you. It's torture. I had to Sara; I had to kill them, to make it go away. And now I have to end it, end it with you." And suddenly his arm thrust forward. Sara felt the sharp blade as it slid into her body. Looking down, eyes growing hazy, she saw the knife in her chest, right through her heart. He backed away from her now, watching as the blood poured from her wound and her body's slow slump to the floor, that cold smile still curled over his lips. 

Sara gasped and flew up into a sitting position, head spinning. Her body, her pajamas, the sheets, the pillow – all soaked in her cold sweat. She heaved, taking deep breaths, gasping for air. The image of his face, that cold smile, still hung before her eyes. _A dream…a NIGHTMARE,_ she thought, as her hand moved instinctively for her heart, feeling for the knife she was sure had to be there. 


	2. Rupture the Wall

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI blah blah blah

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Part Two: Rupture the Wall

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The door was closed but she could see his broken image through the textured glass. She gently tapped a balled fist against the glass and waited. His head snapped up from the paperwork in front of him and he gestured for her to enter. _Don't get angry,_ she reminded herself as her hand found the cool metal knob and turned it. The door swung open before her and she entered, shutting it with a soft thud behind her. 

"Sara," he stated, watching her take the seat in front of his desk. "Everything okay?" She felt he would forever be asking her that question and it would forever annoy her. Of all people he should know that she was NOT OK. 

"Yes and no, Grissom. That's why I'm here. I want an answer. No more pretending it's not there, no more games, none of it. It ends now, here." 

"You haven't asked a question," he said pointedly. She glared at him a few seconds before looking back at her hands and speaking. "Grissom, do you love me?" Her face appeared to him again, both anticipating and dreading his answer. It was obvious to her that he was stunned – eyes wide, mouth agape, and speechless. He remained in his stupor for a few more seconds before seeming to shake it off. 

Tears began filling her eyes. There was no holding them back. He was taking so long to respond and she was thinking the worst. "Yes and no," he finally answered. Sara nodded, even though she was very confused. At least it was something. He could see the confusion in her face. "I mean…have dinner with me, tonight." It was a command, not a question. 

"Okay," she answered, still confused and not knowing how else to respond. 

"Come around five o' clock to my townhouse. I'll cook and we can talk." She nodded, wiping away the tears with the back of her palm. "Vegan, right?" he asked. Her face filled with puzzlement. "Yeah, that's right." He smiled softly, his gaze never leaving her as she stood and left his office.

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That evening, Grissom prepared for what he hoped to accomplish with Sara. He busied himself by preparing the vegetable stir fry and tossing a salad – both vegan friendly dishes. His table was set with his finest of Chinas and two bone white taper candles sitting in their silver holders on a wine red linen tablecloth he'd found with his China. Everything was picture perfect, right out of a home décor magazine, and he hoped that he was up to the performance. 

While he showered and dressed, he'd tried to play out how he hoped their conversation was going to go. It was like making a script inside his head and he had some trouble guessing how Sara would respond. As he went over it, he continually found himself shaking his head and griping, "No, she would never say THAT." 

A little after five, a soft knock sounded on his door. _She's here_, his mind screamed and he tried not to panic. He took a few deep breaths before opening the door. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Sara was adorned in a beautiful mauve dress that extended to just above the knee. The front came down in a flattering V exposing a little cleavage, the sleeves were flowy, and it fit tightly, accentuating every curve beautifully. 

"Are you going to invite me in?" she asked softly, noticing his gaze moving over her. 

"Oh yes, please, come in." He moved aside and watched her expression as she took in the room that he'd so carefully prepared. The lights were dim now and several candles placed around the room were burning, casting a pale glow. The only source of bright light came from the kitchen, where he had been stirring the stir fry before she knocked. 

Sara gasped at his touch when Grissom took her arm and escorted her to a chair. She sat, thanking him. He moved swiftly to the kitchen. After easing the stir fry from the pan into a casserole dish, he brought it and his salad over to the table. 

"Wow, I didn't know you could cook," Sara commented, admiring the dishes. 

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," he whispered, taking his seat across from her. The flames on the tapers bounced and reflected in each others eyes. _And I intend to tell you about them,_ he thought. They placed their napkins on their laps and dug into the food. Little conversation was made while they ate. 

"That was delicious Gil. I'm stuffed." She didn't realize she had used his first name, but he caught it and smiled. 

"Dessert?" he asked, rising and moving toward the fridge. "I made a strawberry pie." 

"Mmm," she moaned, "I think I can find room for that." He brought two slices on white China plates. 

When they had finished, he began clearing away the dishes. She offered to help but he assured her he could handle it and to sit on the couch if she liked. He would only be a few minutes – just wanted to cover the leftovers and put them away. She took her time moving across to the sofa, taking in his possessions. Many bugs in boxes adorned the wall; his shelves were stuffed with forensics and entomological journals and books. She sat comfortably on his couch, watching him move fluidly around his home. True to his word, he joined her a few minutes later, sitting close enough to take her hand gently in his own. 

"Sara, we have to talk." 

"I'm listening," she said softly. He sighed deeply and stared down at their entwined fingers for a few minutes, gaining some confidence and briefly reviewing his script. 

"You asked me today if I love you, and I know my answer must be confusing," he said finally. 

"Yes, it is," she said, hoping he was going to explain. He wouldn't lift his gaze, just continued to focus on his hand in hers. "And start with the yes part," she added. 

"Okay," he replied, nodding slowly. "Yes Sara, I do love you. I suppose…that you recognized it for what it was before I did. But I know now that it's there." 

"So why no?" she asked. He just admitted to caring for her, why was there a need for no? 

"No because I…I'm not sure I can love you the way you deserve. Honestly, I don't know what you see in me. I know what I see – a bitter and selfish old man. What could I offer someone as young and vibrant as you?" There were tears now, leaking slowly from his tired eyes, and running wet lines down his cheeks. She drew his face up to meet hers with her palm, thumb sweeping up the droplets, smearing the line. His blue eyes swirled with sadness and love. It was obvious he was torn. He forced his eyes to focus through his tears to see her brown ones. Seeing the love returned to him in her eyes caused more tears to erupt and spill down his cheeks. 

Suddenly, he was pressed against her, the soft, silky fabric of her dress caressing his face. The feel of her arms wrapped around him was soothing and soon the tears ebbed. Breath hitching in his throat, he pulled slowly back. A flash of terror shook his heart. Was he really saying these things to this woman? 

"Gil, I understand, I really do. Do you believe in fate? In true love? Because I know I've never felt for anyone else the way I do for you." She kissed him now, full and with fervor. He shuddered under the touch of her lips before slowly drawing into the kiss. When she pulled back, a smile graced her lips. "I've been waiting years to do that," she breathed. 

Now, his left hand was buried in her hair gently drawing her back. The left sleeve of her dress slipped down her arm revealing the creamy shoulder underneath. His fingers gently played over the naked skin making her shiver. Their kisses deepened, her hand moved through his hair down his neck and over his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt. The fingers on her shoulder trailed down her arm making the skin tingle as they went. His mouth suddenly pulled from hers and moved to nuzzle her milky neck. A moan escaped her lips. 

"All I want is you, Gil. It's all I've ever wanted." Her hand was no longer on his chest. It had moved behind her to grasp something. His lips were moving over her collarbone when he saw the glint of the knife in the corner of his eye. Abruptly, he pulled back from her, confusion and sadness filling his features. Her face displayed a deep sadness as well, her lips turned down as she held the knife, brought it slowly toward him. "All I've ever wanted," she repeated before shoving it through his heart. 

Now, his eyes were open wide and she let go of the handle, watching the blood as his body fell silently back onto the couch. 

Grissom shot up in his bed, his hand coming up to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. _A dream…it was all a dream._ His heart thundered in his chest, felt like it was trying to rip through his skin, and the sound echoed in his ears. The glare off the blade still reflected in his blue orbs. It almost felt too real to be a nightmare. He was afraid to look at his chest, expecting to see the thin slit in his skin and the blood beginning to pool in his lap. 


End file.
